Page 15 of Heart of the Sun

“She said your resting bitch face is the blueprint!” Destanie exclaimed, tone aghast. I glanced at her, sprawled on the couch, punching her phone keys violently, face set in outrage. I got that I was supposed to feel irate too, and so I turned my focus more fully to my assistant, replaying her words in my head.

“The blueprint for what?”

Her head snapped up, as did her peaked eyebrows. “Resting bitch faces, I guess.”

I pondered that momentarily. “That could be a compliment.”

Destanie looked briefly confused, her mouth opening and then shutting again as her eyes widened. “It could be, right?” She pulled herself straight, clearly excited about the idea. “We’ll make it one. That’s your signature look from now on.”

Will we call it blue steel?I wondered, a giggle threatening at the vision of that ridiculous expression fromZoolander, but I swallowed it down. Destanie was obviously enthusiastic about the idea, even if it made me feel like a parody.

The important thing though was that it had solved a problem. I didn’t know whoshewas who had made the comment, and frankly, I didn’t really care. What was important here was that it had allowed me—or Destanie as my spokesperson—to take back control of my image. It was always better, I’d learned, to take ownership of what could be considered an insult, rather than become immediately defensive. So much of social media was purestrategy.Not just in what you posted and the image you chose to put forth, but how you responded to others online as well. And though I’d only been in the spotlight for about a year, I was getting better by the day at cultivating an image.

I should be proud of that. So why did it make me feel sort of…depressed? Why did it sometimes feel like social media—instead of singing—was my new full-time career?

Destanie continued to punch keys into her phone, and I turned back to the window.

Tuck Mattice.

It’d been surreal to see him, a grown man, no longer even a trace of the boy he’d once been. Now a honed and hardened felon. Chiseled. Muscled.Gorgeous.He’d always had a quick smile and an easy laugh. He’d always made bubbles explode under my ribs. His eyes had hung on me then, his expression part bewilderment and part something else I’d been too young to discern and couldn’t conjure now. I’d shown off for him because I’d loved his reaction. And I’d craved that inner turbulence—part off-putting but mostly exciting. We’d fought like little wildcats sometimes, but we’d also played, and chased salamanders, and explored, and gotten into trouble together. I’d thought about our old exploits as I’d gotten ready for his arrival, taking extra care with my hair extensions and makeup.I’d expected that same old look that made me feelfascinating, but it would be even more blatant, moreraw, now that I was a woman, astar. Instead, when I’d walked in the room, his face had fallen. He’d looked at me like I was nothing but a deep disappointment. My stomach knotted, those bubbles dissipating one by one.

How dare he?

I’d made the decision not to judge him hastily, but now that I’d seen him in person, I’d realized that I’d had every right to make assumptions. If anything, he’d confirmed exactly what I’d imagined about who he’d become. Hardened. Bitter. Still as unaffected as he’d been the last time I’d seen him. Cold.

And the knowledge not only made me angry, it also hurt. It brought back all those memories of the time after his mother died. He’d turned away from me then, and I’d felt utterly abandoned. I’d tried with all my might to be the friend he’d obviously needed. I’d even gone to that loft in the old stable and taken a few of his beloved books. I’d read one cover to cover even though it was far above my reading level. I’d had to go over some pages ten times before I understood the words. I’d thought I could engage him that way, pull him out of his emotional coma, bring him back to me. But he’d looked right through me as if I didn’t exist. He’d stared at me like that earlier today too. And it’d hurt. It made me bitter that he could still illicit that reaction in me, even now, when I had everything I’d ever wanted in life, and more. When he was so far beneath me, dammit.

And yet, here I was, about to entrust my safety to him. About to bring him into my inner circle. Once again, Tuck Mattice was going to be part of my everyday life.

I looked out at the deepening sunset, troubled and antsy. I had a feeling this was not going to work out well.

“That’s it. That’s the one,” Destanie said, grinning as she took in my face.

I brought my hand up as though whatever she was referring to might be hanging off my cheek. “Oh,” I said, my arm dropping as understanding dawned. “The signature look?”

Destanie laughed, rolling her eyes. “I called your name three times, and you didn’t hear me. Leon just called and said he’s on his way up.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, attempting to straighten out my features. “I got lost in my own head. Tell Leon to meet me on the deck.”

“Will do,” Destanie called as I turned and headed for the small place I considered a respite. It was off the kitchen and had a fantastic view of the hills, even if they were currently brown and parched from the ongoing drought here in Southern California. I’d brought a couple of patio plants home from Trader Joe’s six months before, and they’d climbed up the privacy screen that separated this unit from the one next-door, creating a lush backdrop. I liked the opulent feel and clean lines of my apartment, but I supposed in some ways I was still a farm girl, because the untamed beauty of climbing vines and natural vistas brought me a sense of peace when nothing else did.

“Emily.”

I turned to see my manager smiling, stepping through the sliding glass doors and onto the deck. “Leon.” I approached, and he took both of my hands in his, giving them a warm shake. “Thank you for stopping by. I would have come into the office.”

“No, I was heading to another meeting across town and your place is on the way,” he said, glancing at the ivy. “Also, this is great. Especially since I’ve been sitting in a boardroom for most of the day.” We both took a seat at the four-person glass table. Even though the sun was setting, the heat of the day hadn’t quite burned off yet. But it was comfortable under the awning that covered the space. Leon sighed, gazing out to the hills for a moment, his eyes lingering on the silvery lavender sky. I turned toward it as well, the horizon a shade I didn’t recall ever seeing before. How was it that I’d witnessed thousands of sunsets in my life, and yet one could still stun me? “Do you ever forget there’s a world out there beyond boardrooms and recording studios?” he asked.

I smiled, and it felt like the first real one all day. “Sometimes,” I admitted.

He cleared his throat, seeming to come back to himself. “So, listen, Emily,” he said, tapping his open palm on the table for a moment as he studied me. “I’ve been ironing out the contracts with several of the team members joining the tour, and I wanted to talk to you about a few of their suggestions.”

“Oh, okay.”

He reached in his briefcase and removed a stack of papers. “I’ve approved all of these. They just need your signature. Take a few days to read them over and give me a call if you have any questions.”

I nodded, sliding the stack of contracts toward me and glancing at the top one. It was for a lighting crew. Just looking at my name at the top of the page was surreal. It was hard enough to believe I had a manager and an assistant, a bona fideteam. But now I had a lighting crew! Tasked solely with lighting my show.

And a bodyguard. Now you have a bodyguard.

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